Who would've thought the darkest night would be the one after the hard-fought battle was finally won?

There was something obscene about his mood, something obscene about the brightness of the stars from the window of his room and the moody darkness in his soul. The darkness of the room was disturbing, too. He normally liked dark. It was intimate.

He didn't want to think of intimate things. Things he was surprised to realize he planned to do... with her. But he was alone now. And the lights only showed him an empty room. It shouldn't be empty. So he had turned off the lights. He didn't want to see the emptiness. He clung to the dark and his memories.

They weren't pleasant. They rarely were. They hadn't really been until *her*. She had come into his life like a scent on the wind. She had blown through his tidy life, his lonely soul, had brightened up all the sour memories that made up his life. And now she was gone. And he had memories. And loneliness. And it would take a long time to return to the tidiness he craved and clung to when nothing else existed.

Garak scowled and dug out a bottle of kanar. The soldier that had used his room in his absence had left a large supply of it behind and he was glad. It was good. The first good thing to happen since they slipped out of the wormhole without getting killed by the Jem'Hadar fleet that had vanished. They had survived although he had thought they wouldn't. They had, but the one person he *knew* would survive hadn't instead. Life for life and so he lived and she hadn't. Didn't. Dead.

He threw the glass he found in his hand now aside. He didn't need it. He popped off the cap and swigged down a large, fiery gulp, almost too large to swallow comfortably. It seared his mouth and sinus. He wanted to feel the fiery, slippery liquid coating his throat, burning his gut. It did. It kept burning all the way down. Good.

He wanted it to burn out the brightness, burn through the darkness inside him, burn out the sound of Kira's wailing prayer to the damnable Bajoran Prophets that she'd cried over Ziyal for over two hours, burn down and fill up the hole that opened inside him when he'd seen her dead body, burn his soul to ashes...bitter, burning ashes. He could almost taste them despite the thick, fiery liquid in his mouth. He slid his tongue around his lips and tasted hot salt.

A roaring sound erupted around him and he realized it was him. He was roaring out his rage. He was angry about his tears. About the reason for his tears. Why were there tears? He hadn't loved her. That was impossible. And even if she had loved him it didn't matter. Their relationship just wasn't possible. Especially now. Now that she was--

He growled and drank another large slug of kanar and another. It burned hard. He could feel his eyes stinging. He wasn't crying. And if he was it wasn't because anyone had died. A *lot* of people had died. He'd seen them die during the war. He had killed some himself. No, if he cried it was because of the stupidity and futility and humility of it all. Because the brightness of the stars outside his portal made his eyes hurt. Because his whole body ached from head to toe and he couldn't get away from his body.

Drown the bastard then, and wash it away. He slugged more kanar down and wasn't surprised to see over half the bottle was gone. Good thing there were four more bottles. He drank more down and opened another. The war was over. Time to celebrate.

"To absent friends." he muttered. That was the toast O'Brien had used after one of the battles, at the starbase. It was *their* fault. They did this to him. They put something in his brain. He knew it. He would do the same thing if he was them.

"Bastards."

He slugged a bit more down. His gut was on fire. Flames sang through his veins. He thought if he closed his eyes he would see the shimmer of heat ghosts. Ghosts. No ghosts. He didn't want ghosts. He drank more down and finished the bottle. "To absent friends."

But all his friends were here. Even the captain was friendly to him now. Everyone was. Well, except *him*. But then the genetically modified genius hadn't been friendly to anyone but O'Brien for months. He had tried to keep being friendly, but he hadn't had gotten any back. Just complaints and lots of depressing statistics. Julian had turned into an uncaring computer. And he was fooling himself if he ever thought there would be more there. It didn't take a fucking genius to see *that*. So all there was was... nothing. She was the one he worked to come back for.

He gulped more kanar. She was gone. Dead. And nothing was the same. Another slug of kanar almost made him choke and he growled. No, it was all the same. He was exiled. Alone. No family. No one.

And it was too fucking bright on this godforsaken station. "Computer! Turn off the...lights."

A hard sound, a different voice responded than he remembered. "The lights are not on."

He staggered to his feet. That wasn't possible. It was too bright in here. Too bright. He snarled and growled and threw the empty bottle at the light, straight above him. A sharp crash sounded and hot sparks fell on his face...and finally it was dark. It was so dark he couldn't see, but that was all right, too, because he didn't want to see anything. No room. No friends. No ghosts. He reached his hands out for the bottle in the dark, swore as he heard a crashing sound and managed to grab another bottle. It wasn't the open one, but that was all right.

He opened it. Sightless he drank it down and sighed with relief in the dark. He could feel warm liquid trickling down his cheeks and from his eyes, but it didn't matter. It wasn't tears. He could taste the blood now in the kanar.

So long as it wasn't tears.

So long as no light or sound disturbed his warm, darkness. So long as he was alone and no one intruded. So long as no one blew into his life again like a scent on the wind. So long as things remained as they were and he was alone. Again.

Odo moved past the hall, his sharp ears picking up the sound. It had been...something breaking. He waited and heard the sound of snarling, of rage. He turned to the sound and without asking, opened the doorway he found himself by. Why should he have to ask? He was station security.

// You are a god. //

He shook off this memory. He had the right do do this and that was what mattered.

The door was marked as "Glinn Ersek", but he knew all the Cardassians on the station had evacuated. Could one have stayed behind?

// Allies of the Dominion. They are useful tools, Odo. //

He frowned at this thought, living with the constant presence of the Founders voice in his mind since the Dominion withdrawal. He couldn't escape it, even in his dreams.

Now he ignored the voice and stepped into the cabin. The room was dark and the lights didn't respond to his command, but he could see once he adjusted his eyes. They gleamed like a cats in the dark as he noted the shuddering figure on the floor. It did look Cardassian, but - his memory suddenly clicked into place. This used to be the room belonging to--

"Garak." He bent over and touched warm suede, felt something damp. He sat him up and noticed the dark liquid running from his forehead and into his eyes.

//So fragile, these solids. Why would you wish to live like one? //

"What happened? Did someone attack you?"

"...m fine. Fucking lights too fucking bright too fucking much fucking shit fuck..." the tailors words all slurred together and Odo realized he was drunk. He had a bottle held firmly in one hand.

// Foolish solids. //

He scowled trying to ignore the words the female changeling seemed to have left written across his mind. Without thinking about it, he grabbed the closest arm and yanked, "Come on, Garak." The tailor flinched. Garak's fear made Odo's frown deepen and his voice get harsher. "Get up!"

"Where going?" Garak choked out, his eyes wide and black in the dark, streaming tears of brown blood that had slid into them from the cuts above his brows.

//You spoke too harshly. You scared him, Odo'ital.//

This was the voice of Doctor Mora, though, not the female changeling. He fought his frustration and slowed his actions, calmed his voice.

// You have to be gentle with us humanoids, Odo'ital. //

He put his hand back on Garak's shoulder. "You should get that cut tended to."

"I'm fine," Garak snarled and despite his swaying state pulled away from Odo. "Leave me alone."

"Garak, you're bleeding so badly you can't see."

"Don't want to see *you fucking fool*!!" Garak snapped at the surprised Odo, whipping his head up so fast blood spattered landed on Odo's cheek, making him wince. "Only one I wanted to see isn't here, GULDAMMIT!!!"

Odo frowned and thought this over. He decided the Cardassian was too drunk to know what he was saying. He began to lift Garak to his feet but apparently he wasn't as drunk as he'd thought. Garak twisted free, snarling, and suddenly he felt something cold and sharp pierce his 'skin' and skim through his liquid interior. A knife. *He stabbed me.*

"Now leave me the fuck ALONE!!" Garak stumbled back, tripped over a bottle and fell heavily on his back, losing consciousness. The bottle he still held onto shattered, kanar spilling onto the carpet and soaking in. The knife he'd pulled fell onto the carpet. Odo noticed new glass sticking from his cheek and neck. He was bleeding again.

*Why am I arguing with him when I have other methods?*

//The solids have their own concerns. They can deal with each other. We have no need to interfere.//

Odo shook off the voice and slapped his commbadge. "Odo to Infirmary."

"Go ahead, constable."

// Constable. What a disrespectful title. You are a *GOD*. //

"I've found Garak. He's... drunk and has cut himself."

"Celebrating, eh?" Bashir cheerfully said and Odo didn't correct him.

// Solids always make the wrong assumptions. //

"The Infirmary is a bit full right now with more urgent cases. If you think you could handle that, constable, and wouldn't mind, I'll be glad to send you a medical regenerator and a hypo of detoxicant."

"I can do it."

*I could even be _you_, doctor, if I wanted.*

"All right, constable."

*So why do you all disrespect me so?*

// They fear us.// He grunted at this thought and shoved it to the back of his mind.

There was the sound of the transporter then and two small devices twinkled to life in front of him.

"Just remove any glass, towel off the blood and press the edges of the wound together, then--"

"I said I can do it, doctor." He clicked off his commbadge and picked up the regenerator and the hypo.

Garak was still out cold. Odo gathered himself, tucked the regenerator into his belt. He pressed the hypo to Garak's neck, giving him the detox, then set it aside. He easily picked up the Cardassian, carrying him to the bedroom and laying him on the bed. He went into the bathroom and got a washcloth and wet it, then walked back to the bed and the sleeping Cardassian.

*So fragile. They need our help so much. But they fear us and the help we offer them.*

Odo studied the cuts and the glass and then put his hand against Garak's forehead. It morphed and ran along his forehead to his cheeks and neck. With little effort he plucked all the glass out from the cuts, and set it aside, leaving it on the table by the bed, including the blood he'd absorbed which puddled on the surface and dripped on the table top.

He changed his hand back again and picked up the washcloth and pressed it to the Cardassian's wounds. As he finished cleansing the wound on his neck and picked up the regenerator, Garak opened his eyes.

"Wha--?"

"Don't move, I'm going to use a regenerator to close the cuts on your face and neck." Odo didn't wait for him to argue, but switched on the device and began to move it along the deep cut by the spoon- like hollow on Garak's forehead.

Garak tensed a little, but didn't move. He just waited, blinking and looking as if he was trying to figure things out. Odo finished sealing the cut on his forehead, toweled his cheek for a minute since the cut there was bleeding again, then turned on the regenerator. Garak put his hand on Odo's wrist as he neared his cheek.

"Thank you, constable. I can finish from here in the bathroom mirror."

// Don't touch me you filthy shapeshifting freak! //

Odo blinked and looked at Garak. The echo of the words from the beaten Bajoran he'd tried to help in the mines, after Mora, echoed in his mind. But he just shut off the regenerator and moved his hand back down to the side of the bed, taking Garak's hand with it. When Garak moved to take the regenerator, Odo slid his hand over his wrist, stopping him.

"I'm only trying to help you." He sounded tired.

Garak frowned and let him go. Odo didn't look at him, just looked at the regenerator in his hand.

"You'd already cut yourself when I came into the room. Then you cut yourself some more when you tried to get away from me and I was only trying to help you. But then you were drunk. Drunk people do foolish things."

Garak nodded. Odo looked and sounded strange to him.

Odo kept talking. "They hurt themselves and then blame others for getting hurt. They cause trouble and expect others to fix it for them."

"So why are fixing my face then?"

Odo stopped finally and met his eyes. "That's a good question, Garak. Maybe I felt sorry for you."

Garak's frown grew deeper. "Sorry for me?"

// You genuinely feel for these foolish solids. Odo? //

"You can't help what you are. And all you can do to escape it is to seek oblivion. Drink or death, it's all the same."

"Odo, are you all right?"

"I'm a changeling. And yet I won't change until the day I die. Doesn't that strike you as funny, Garak?"

"You...were made a humanoid again by the Founders?" Garak struggled to understand.

"No, no. I can change my shape. Better than before." Odo suddenly moved in close to Garak, morphing as he did and Dukat was before him. "What do you think?" he asked, in Dukat's voice.

Garak swallowed. "Impressive."

Odo/Dukat smiled. Then morphed in to Sisko. His deep voice was identical to the captain's. "A game. Nothing more." He morphed yet again and Dax suddenly was looking down on him. "Even gender doesn't matter. Why should it? I am a changeling."

"Of course." Garak whispered.

"But I frighten you, don't I?" Odo/Dax asked.

"You surprised me, that's all."

"I frighten you." Odo/Dax whispered, then a sad expression moved over his/her face. "Here." He morphed once more and suddenly Ziyal was leaning over him. "This shouldn't frighten you."

And with that, Odo/Ziyal began fixing Garak's cheek. Garak didn't try to stop him this time, just studied the face above him. The face he'd been longing to see. But this Ziyal was somber. There was no ready smile, no joy in her eyes.

"You aren't Ziyal."

Odo/Ziyal looked at Garak and sighed. The sadness in those eyes touched Garak deeply, even knowing it wasn't *his* Ziyal.

"No. But she would have done this for you." Odo/Ziyal finished fixing his cheek and moved to Garak's neck. He pressed Garak's head back to expose his throat more fully to his gaze. He gently toweled the wound and found himself studying those slender, femine fingers he currently wore.

They weren't too unlike his own, in his customary humanoid shape, but this time they were female. What exactly *was* female, he wondered. It meant little to him one way or the other, but it was important to the solids. It was how they identified themselves. With names that had to do with having breasts and vagina's or having penises and scrotums. He could have anything he wanted though. It meant nothing.

*Odo'ital. Nothing. What other name could they give?*

It meant nothing, he knew. Being called nothing. Having breasts and a vagina and being called Ziyal, or having a penis and scrotum and being called Garak. It didn't matter. Even having names humanoids didn't really know each other at all.

"What's wrong, my friend?"

Odo/Ziyal blinked and met Garak's eyes. They studied him. "You've cut yourself and you ask me what's wrong?"

"So am I to understand you're upset because I cut myself?" Garak's voicebox moved up and down as he spoke, under Odo/Ziyal's hands.

*Would he touch you any other way except accidentally?*

Odo/Ziyal finished sealing the wound and set the regenerator aside. "I fixed it."

Garak moved his head back to a more normal position and then nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Odo/Ziyal's eyes grew sad again. "It wasn't anything."

"I think it was."

"It's only a small thing I did. And there's so much more we could do. But we don't. Because we frighten you. And you misunderstand. And then you start to fear us. And then you kill us." Odo/Ziyal dropped those slender hands and sighed.

// So the hunter became the hunted. We did what was necessary, Odo. //

Garak took one of those hands in his own and carefully propped himself up a little. He decided to ignore the changeling reference and focused on something else his friend had said. "Odo, I need you to know something. I've never been frightened of you. The only time I was ever frightened of what you might do was the time I...I had to interrogate you."

Odo/Ziyal shrugged. "I forgave you for that."

"Yes. But I was afraid you wouldn't. And I was afraid the only person on this station that is like me, an exile, would despise me for doing what I did."

"It was your job. You had to."

"I didn't want to do it."

"I know."

"Like you didn't want to be trapped here?"

Odo/Ziyal looked to Garak again and this time, a shining tear slid down that familiar face and Garak swallowed.

"I'm a changeling. I can be anything. I can be anywhere." she whispered sadly.

Garak's hand tightened on hers. "And yet you can't leave this station, can you? All the people you know are here. Your own people don't understand you any more than *we* understand them. Than we truly understand you. The only life you've ever lived is here. The only job you've ever done."

Odo/Ziyal sighed. "Not the only job."

Garak nodded. He sat up all the way, still holding her hand. "I know."

Her eyes met his. "I knew you did."

"I was in the Obsidian Order. It was my job to know."

"But you never said anything."

Garak touched her face then, gently stroked those damp beloved cheeks. Odo's or Ziyals, he wondered. It didn't matter. He cared for them both. He had missed them both very much. His voice was very quiet.

"Maybe I didn't say anything because I've also done things I didn't want to. Things that made me ashamed of myself."

"At least, you did them to others." She whispered softly. "You didn't have them done to you."

Garak stared at those sad eyes. They looked just like Ziyal's, but they weren't. But they didn't look like Odo's either.

It didn't matter. He loved them both. *Had* loved them both. He pulled himself up, to sit. His large hands rested on those slender shoulders.

"That doesn't matter anymore, Odo. It's in the past. What both of us have done. It's in the past. Forgotten."

He believed it. What he had done didn't matter this night. What he was didn't matter. It hadn't mattered to Ziyal. Why should what Odo had done matter to him? It wasn't any worse than what he had to do in the past. He felt himself urging Odo.

"It truly doesn't matter to me."

Odo wouldn't look at him though. The thoughts going through his head were frightening, but they weren't the Founders.

*Trust him. With him you have nothing left to lose.*

Garak's voice grew gentle and compelling. "We both have secrets. We both share something we're ashamed of."

Images of his flesh peeling and pain swept through Odo. And images of that first breakfast they shared where Garak was so uncomfortable and nervous. And he didn't intend to do anything, no revenge. He had meant *breakfast*. And Garak had offered him more, offered him the right to take him bodily if he wanted to, feeling that odd sort of humanoid need to atone for what he'd done to him. But he'd been too afraid then, to afraid to give in to the feelings of need and hunger. Not bodily hunger, but that burning need to 'link', to join with someone and share all he was.

Garak encouraged him. "We are truly equals here. Both exiled. Alone."

// In the Great Link you are never alone. //

"We should be together, you and I."

// You feel too much for these solids, Odo. You even befriended that Cardassian that tortured you. You accord him the same feeling you do the Major. You protect him and converse with him. What is it about this Cardassian that attracts you? Do you share intimacies? //

Odo looked at Garak then. His eyes burned with the hunger of his gaze.

*Garak's right. We are alike. Exiles. Alone. Unable to be with the ones we care for. Ashamed of what we've had to do.*

_Why is he waiting?_ the tailor wondered. He could see the mute wanting in those blue eyes. _Maybe it is something else he speaks of?_

The changeling sat not moving and Garak felt his stomach twist. Had he misread what Odo wanted from him? Then the covered flesh beneath his fingers morphed, bones shifted and grew wider, cloth merged to flesh. Bare flesh. Odo faced him now, nude.

He barely had a chance to look at him though, as Odo barked, "Lights!"

The room went completely dark. Garak just shivered, feeling himself becoming erect and pulsing against the thick cloth of his trousers. He jumped, but said nothing at all as strong, warm fingers started undressing him, slipping off his shirt, his undershirt. Garak felt himself being gently laid back against the firm mattress and soft blankets as his cock surged to full hardness.

Before he lost his nerve he whispered, "I want you to fuck me."

Firm fingers worked open his trousers now. A dark velvet voice in his ear, hot lips brushing his cool flesh as Odo spoke. "I'd like that."

And suddenly Garak was naked, and those warm fingers soothed their way along his length, down his scaled chest, dancing along the edges of the many scars his torso bore. Odo asked no questions and Garak didn't say where they were from. He reached a hand out to touch his lover, but it was gently pushed down and he gasped as Odo turned him, lifting him easily, like a child.

Warm fingers made their way down his shivering spine, hot lips pressed along, then teased the edges of the supple scales that decorated his back and edged to his rib cage where the scales changed to the faint hard ridges that trailed along his sides, like the ones along his neck and shoulders. There were thicker, but softer ones along his hips and thighs.

Those fingers dipped into the crease of the ridge and Garak gasped, then Odo grasped the ridges on both sides and gently rubbed along them, making Garak start shuddering helplessly. His engorged cock pressed hard into the firm mattress beneath him and he nearly groaned with need.

"Odo..."

"Soon."

Those hands rubbed down to find the ridges along his hips and followed them downward to where they ended at his lower calves, then shifted their focus to his smoothly scaled inner calves and Garak found himself clenching his ass cheeks tightly. Warm palms pressed his inner thighs now, softly tickling each scale. Then a heated palm slid beneath him to cup his cock, the other pressed at the small of his back making him jerk into that possessive hand.

"Soon."

The hand at his back joined the first and he could feel Odo's weight pressing against him, then that second hand gently carressed his testicular ridge above his cock. It was fully swollen with semen and sperm. A few drops of lubrication trickled into Odo's hand, still held against his prick, then those warm carressing fingers of the other hand gently pinched the ridge and he cried out as a copious spurt of thick oily semen splashed those lean fingers. They withdrew then and applied themselves to his ass cheeks, all over his scaly butt and not just in between at that small, soft, naturally moist opening that didn't need any lubrication. They spread along his back and he could smell nothing but sex now. He breathed heavily, feeling his heart hammering hard against his ribs, his blood heating, on fire where those hands touched him, kept touching him, those firm legs between his own, pressing against his inner thighs.

Then another set of hands shocked him to stillness. Was another in the room? He was abruptly parted and Garak jumped, but before he could protest, he felt something flow in. He arched his back with the sheer pleasure of it, and he was fully impaled, but before he could figure out exactly what was happening he felt a hand, no, a *mouth* work it's way around his seeping cock, and more, hot ribbons of liquid ran along his side ridges, toying with the edges of his scales and making tingles run through him, even as he felt that intruder inside him grow and begin to thrust. It was Odo. He knew that now. No other, just his improbable, magical lover.

Garak thrust now, too, into that mouth and just closed his eyes to the sensations, completely wild with excitement over what was being done to him.

A soft, rubbery bulge developed beneath his testicular ridge and he gently pushed against it as he thrust, already feeling his cock slowly pulsing out his thick oily semen into that mouth. When he began to gasp, another mouth was suddenly against his and he opened his to it, let the thick, smooth tongue work against his own. Then the musky taste of his own semen came to him and he worked at it, sipped it from that soft, eager tongue so he could swallow it and let it fill him inside and out with pure sex.

How long this went on he did not know. He lost track of everything but pleasure. He was surprised he wasn't empty when it was over, his hugely swollen bulge felt as if it was maybe a third of its former size.

"Again?"

His cock jumped at the sound of that dark velvet tone and he turned to it, reached out a hand to find a smooth chest, humanoid. He slipped his hand down to ribs, a flat belly, hip bones... an erection.

"I want to take you in my mouth." He whispered. "Would that bring you pleasure?"

// Humanoids. They are slaves to their bodies, Odo. We are above that. //

Odo sighed. *Then I am weak and flawed.*

"Every touch brings me pleasure in this form," he whispered, shaking with longing.

"I'm glad."

Garak pressed his lover to the bed, much as Odo had done to him earlier, but this time it was on his long straight back. He spread his hands on Odo's chest and felt the difference in his skin, so tender feeling, so moist. His thicker, cooler fingers slid along that smooth alien skin and he shivered with new desire. Was it because Odo was a changeling or did all humans have skin this exquisitely moist? He pressed his face down against that stretch of belly and suddenly a hand stopped him.

He was stroked and carressed, every leathery projection of his face rubbed and cherished. Lean fingers slipped downward, stroking along his neck ridges. Elim gasped.

"Take me, Garak. But take me... like this."

Suddenly he was gently tipped back and he could hear the wet, sibilant sound of changeling conversion. Then he was being kissed. The kiss was hard, but the lips were different. Different, yet familiar. No longer smooth, but rougher, and the skin...

Garak pulled back. "Odo?"

"Take me, Garak. Take me and make me yours."

The voice was Ziyal's. "Odo..."

"Call me whatever you like. But tonight --" He felt something reach past him and suddenly his bedside light flicked on and he gasped at the sight of *her*, so close and perfect in her nudity.

"Tonight let me give you this. Let me give you *her*."

Garak stared at Odo/Ziyal and she took his hand and led it to her forehead, rested his fingers in the faint spoon there.

*This is all I can give you, my friend. This is all that I am.*

Odo/Ziyal smiled tenderly. Elim swallowed. Her voice was a promise. "Only *I* can give you this. Let me."

She ran his hand down her face, the exciting, barely-there scales on her chest and shoulders, down to the rough scales that made up the place where humanoids had nipples on their breasts, out to the ridge that led to her hips. Still holding his warm hand she led it to that well protected cleft between her legs, beneath a soft pad of leathery scales that was meant to gently bump against his testicles when they joined. Pliant scales and butter-soft, leathery folds parted at his fingers to dip inside. It felt slippery, as if she was--

Those eyes begged him. "She wanted you. She wanted to give you this. *I* want to give you this now."

"Odo..."

"If she was here with you ... even now you would be inside her. Over her. Loving her. And she would take what you give her. She would take it because she needed you. And you needed her. Don't deny it. Not to me."

Garak shuddered, felt her hand slip his fingers in deeper, hungrily.

"I couldn't save her. But I can give you both *this*." She parted her legs then and arched beneath his hand, now hot from being almost inside her and he groaned.

"*You're* - *NOT* - *Ziyal*." Garak hissed, unable to pull back his hand, shaking so hard the entire bed moved beneath them.

She met his gaze with her own burning one. The eyes he suddenly realized, were crystal blue.

"But *I* need you, too." a pause. "I need... someone." That voice, so like Ziyal's, broke.

Garak stopped thinking. He twisted his hand in hers to grab that slender wrist and arch it to the side of her head and pin her down. She waited, hunger in those clear eyes.

Then he lay on top of her, full body, stretching his neck ridges against hers, like a snake shifting to move alongside an obstacle. She started undulating beneath him, side to side, in the oldest of Cardassian expressions. Soon he was inside her, slow fucking, rippling from side to side as their hands grasped at ridges and pulled, stroked, gripped and rubbed. She was hot and tight and perfect.

He felt himself start seeping into her. He could smell leather and sex and feel warmth and a slippery grinding grittiness between her inner silk and his scaly leather that excited his Cardassian sensibilities. Her hands pulled and kneaded at him and he found it hard to think. Then she opened further and he slipped in deeper and her movements changed to a circular motion that drew even more from him as he pressed against that soft leathery pad. His mouth opened wide and a dry hiss began to escape.

Her small teeth bit down on his neck ridge then, firmly, and he felt the scales part, the softness beneath split and his blood drawing forth as her tongue slid under it to capture the bittersweet stream. Her hips bucked beneath his and he lost all sanity, growling with his forceful release. The climax was bone-shattering. He thought his blood and sinew would pour out and into her and that would be the end of him.

He shuddered when he came to. Warm wetness was carressing his face and then his cock. Roughness excited the tingling skin of his still swollen stalk, and when it swirled in a circle around the flesh above his testicles, Garak grabbed blindly and sat up. His hand held a wrist, still slender, but no longer fragile. As he did, he realized his neck did not hurt, but it should. He touched it with his other hand. He'd been healed, regenerated.

Odo watched him without a word, no longer resembling anyone but himself. His hand dropped the wet towel he held.

"I fixed your neck, it's fine." The same voice from before, no longer dull. The same constable, no longer so distant.

Garak nodded, still holding his wrist. "Thank you."

"I heard that was pleasurable to Cardassians. I didn't know it would make you blackout."

"A release of the blood from our neck cords during ... extreme physical activity can make our vascular pressure drop very quickly. It also feels very like an orgasm. It's an old technique among our courtesans. If done before climax, a soldier doesn't know the difference and she need not fear impregnation."

"Oh." Odo looked away. *I'm no god. I don't even know the simplest of these humanoid ways.*

"I thought it was pleasurable to you."

Garak slid a free hand along a lean, bare thigh to press against those very real-looking genitals. He smiled as Odo jumped, startled.

"It was, Odo. It is an old trick, but the real trick is that a courtesan would milk the soldier after he was unconscious. His seed would be gone and when he woke he wouldn't know it was from her hands and not her body. But you didn't know that. I didn't just lose consciousness because you drew blood. Look."

He drew Odo's hand to his own groin, to the smooth area just above his heavy cock. Odo frowned.

"What?"

"I'm empty. You emptied me."

Odo's frown stayed. "Of course. Your seed ... it's still inside me."

Garak's cock throbbed at this and he knew Odo could feel it against his fingers. He smiled and let go of his wrist then.

His voice was harsh with lust. "Give it back."

Odo blinked in surprise and Garak used his advantage to slide his head over to Odo's lap, where his hand still cupped that soft, moist fragile-looking bulk. He held and kissed it before repeating.

"Give it back to me."

He licked the soft, loose tip, then slipped that soft cock into his mouth, sucking and releasing, over and over, feeling the loose skin sliding along his tongue and teeth. He had said he felt pleasure this way. Soon he knew it was true.

Odo groaned harshly. His hands slipped to Garak's neck, to his now hugely swollen, but empty cock and grasped both, pulling at them demandingly.

Garak felt that human-looking cock becoming hard in his mouth. It was silky and warm and slowly grew, stretching to brush the back of his throat. He held it there, working the base with his teeth, confident he could not hurt this particular lover. One of his hands cradled the oddly soft bulkiness of his testicles while the other reached behind Odo to slide between his ass-cheeks and press within. Odo shifted a little and Garak waited, but his lover only stretched back to lay alongside him and then he felt a warm mouth slide along his own straining cock.

He had no seed left to give, but the feeling was incredible. A wet silk tongue worked along his soft, leathery grooves and wiggled at the slit on the head of his cock. Garak nearly choked, but not from the long prick in his mouth. He felt his breath rattling. He needed to hiss out his pleasure. He released Odo's cock and felt his throat open. A dry rattle sounded and he shuddered uncontrollably.

Then Odo began to move him. He felt himself lifted and gently positioned. He felt his legs lifted and spread, gently held in place. Then that same long hard cock he'd been sucking was sliding inside him. Those same soft and heavy balls he'd been holding were now pressing against his ass cheeks. And Odo's hands were grasping at his neck ridges, playing with the edges of his scales and working a nail just under them to slide it along the length of each segment.

Garak bucked and hissed again, powerless to stop. His body was empty, but it throbbed and yearned. When his orgasm came, he knew it would be painfully dry, crippling in intensity. Still he worked for it, pushing down as much as he could to impale himself on that throbbing invader, stretching his neck and feeling his cords flexing against those strong fingers.

Blue, blue eyes were above him. They watched him. They urged him. They *needed* him, his abandonment. Garak's rattle rose into a harsh roar. Triumphant surrender. He thought he heard the same sort of sound from Odo, but it seemed more like a wail. He grasped his lover with his hands and held on.

Garak convulsed as agonizingly dry spasms ripped through him, and shuddered again as he felt the payload of his own making being delivered deep inside him. And still he was held, he was grounded by the feeling of those strong hands. He was safe. He felt secure in those hands. He hadn't felt safe and secure in much too long.

He gasped for breath that didn't want to come, but finally his lungs cooperated and he clutched at his lover. Odo took his hands in his, but he shook them off and he felt that lengthy cock slip free of his throbbing leathery opening. He fought to focus and reached out again, found an arm. He pulled. Odo came willingly.

He slipped his arms around him and held him tightly. He felt hair against his lips and worked until he felt smooth skin, an ear. He kissed it, still gasping.

Odo felt him trembling, the need that seemed to equal his own from before. Except he felt content now. The need was gone. And so was the voice of the Founder. He felt empty. But not emptied.

*She did not steal everything from me.*

He rubbed Garak's neck. "It's all right."

The cardassian smiled and sighed. Odo's deep rumbling voice was so wonderfully familiar, so soothing. He hadn't heard it in so long. Another thing not experienced in too long. Garak nodded. He held him closer as he caught his breath.

"I know. Everything is... all right." He gasped a few more times, then smiled at the cautious expression on his new lovers face. "Everything is all right. We're both here."

Odo looked pained. "She asked. I couldn't go with her."

Garak nodded. He understood. "Of course. You belong here. This is your home."

Odo sighed. "It's the only one I've known."

"Because you made this your home, Odo. As I made this mine. It's ... where we belong."

"I can't be with my people."

"Nor I."

'They don't appreciate what I am."

Garak smiled. "I could say the same about my father."

"Enabran?"

Elim looked at Odo in tired surprise. He said nothing and Odo finally smiled. It was a shy and beautiful smile.

"It seemed obvious to me, Garak."

Then he sighed and lay his head back against the Cardassian's broad, leathery shoulder and said nothing until he felt Garak slip into exhausted sleep. Once he did, Odo relaxed and cradled him with his liquid body...and didn't hear the taunting voices in his dreams anymore.